


Fill Your Heart With a Smile

by ordinarilyspeaking



Series: Enouement [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Acrobatics, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson Feels, Dick Grayson Tries to Be a Good Older Sibling, Dick Grayson is a Ray of Sunshine, Dick Grayson-centric, Dick Raised Damian, Drawings, Elvis Presley - Freeform, Existential Crisis, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Feels, Fluff, Gen, Growing Up, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I Made Myself Cry, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I made a series yay, I mention him like once idk why i'm tagging lol, I wrote this at 4am, I'm Bad At Tagging, John Grayson - Freeform, Light Angst, Mary Grayson - Freeform, Sad with a Happy Ending, The Flying Graysons - Freeform, essentially, ish not really, robin legacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ordinarilyspeaking/pseuds/ordinarilyspeaking
Summary: On a tranquil July afternoon, Dick Grayson questions his place in the Flying Graysons, and receives a valuable lesson. The cycle continues as he passes this lesson on to a disgruntled Robin on a rainy July evening.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & John Grayson, Dick Grayson & John Grayson & Mary Grayson, Dick Grayson & Mary Grayson
Series: Enouement [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802242
Comments: 11
Kudos: 97





	Fill Your Heart With a Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, as they all belong to DC etc. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy :)!

Dick was beyond frustrated.

He was seething with anger, a venomous viper of a temper that was coiled deep within his stomach was beginning to rear its ugly head, ready to snap at any second. He stared at the ground, fists clenched and eyes burning holes into the teal mat that laid beneath his feet.

“I can’t do it, Mama.”

It didn’t matter how straight Dick’s arms were, or how much he tucked his knees into his chest, or even how much sheer willpower he harboured. Dick was unable to perform the quadruple somersault and it was eating him alive.

“You’ll get there eventually Dick, don’t worry. After all, practice makes per-.” Dick could hear the softness in her tone and it _irked_ him, more so than it should have.

“I don’t think practice is going to make perfect this time.”

A heavy silence filled the room, tension rolling off of every surface and suffocating them with its thick smog. His mother hesitated, ever so slightly, as she racked her brain around what exactly to say to her son, who was so clearly hurting that it physically pained her.

“Alright, why don’t we take a little break then?”

Dick spun around on his heel, whirling around to face his mother but trying his hardest not to look her in the eyes. He knew what he was about to do was wrong, and that it wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own that he wasn’t getting the hang of the very move that was a Grayson family tradition. However, as the viper within him flexed its fangs, he felt his mouth go into an automatic server separate from his brain. Dick didn’t want to stop training but he couldn’t help but feel frustrated that he had been practicing for so long with no avail.

“Mama, I’m never going to get it! I can’t do the quadruple somersault, so why don’t you just say it? You and Papa are better than me and I should just kick the bucket, because how can I be a Flying Grayson if I can’t even get _half the name_ right?” Dick hissed, and as every word stumbled out of his mouth, he could feel a stab of regret lodge into his conscience, “I’m useless to the show if I can’t do it, so what’s the point of even trying, because I’ll never be able to do it!”

Dick was dimly aware that his voice was hoarse from screaming and that tears were promptly streaming down from his eyes. However, when he lifted his head to lock eyes with his mother, he wished he could stuff every word he had just uttered back into his mouth.

His mother, who was one of the brightest and boldest women Dick had ever known, looked devastated. Any trace of a smile was dashed, her features scrunched in horror, and her eyes wide in shock, and if one looked close enough, they would see tears rising to the surface. Her body was unnaturally rigid, and Dick could feel guilt smothering him with its cold, unloving grip.

He then did the only thing that he could do.

Dick ran as fast as he could, and as far as he could.

Mary had instinctively reached for her son as he sprinted away, her feet moving on their own as she could feel her heart thumping against her throat. It wasn’t until strong arms wrapped around her waist that she completely aware of her surroundings and thoughts.

“Mariam, what's going on?” John exclaimed, spinning her around but keeping his hands firmly planted on her ribcage to keep her grounded. His eyes searched her distressed expression for any possible sign or answer for the situation at hand. She could feel herself calming down, ever so slightly, after staring into her husband's vibrant blue eyes. She had never really gotten over how much she loved those eyes, their softness and intensity always had a way of grounding her when she got in over her head. Mary took a deep breath, and blinked away her tears hastily, then stared back into her husband's eyes.

“John, I think we’ve been pushing Dick too much. He said these awful things about himself because he doesn’t feel like he can be a Grayson if he can’t do the quadruple! How could he think that, doesn’t he know that we couldn’t care less?” Mary pleaded, not quite knowing who she was expecting an answer from.

She has failed as a mother, plain and simple. Mary was no better than her own mother, and the thought made her heart sink even more.

“I have to go talk to hi-,”

“Mariam, I’ll handle it, alright? I know what Dick’s going through, and I think I’m decently equipped to deal with our little Robin, so don’t you worry. You don’t have to hold up the world on your own because you trust me, right?”

The first and only thought that passed her mind was, ‘Yes, without a shadow of a doubt.’ Mary trusted John with her life, and more importantly, she trusted his capabilities as a parent and how much he cared about their son. She nodded, with all the confidence she could muster. It was awarded with John’s winning smiles.

John gave her a swift hug and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “You’re a great mother, and don’t you dare forget it.”

He began to jog off, beginning his search for his son, “You’re a great father, and don’t you dare forget it!”

John couldn’t help but smile, a warm feeling settling in his chest and travelling all over his body. He really was blessed with the best family, wasn’t he?

After about forty minutes of searching, John had finally spotted Dick.

John was at the edge of the forest, his heart jumping around like a trapped frog inside of his ribcage, when he heard a sound.

Soft sniffles had reached his ears, worming their way into his heart and stabbing it for good measure. He trekked over to the tree that harboured the noise and squinted a little to try to get a better view of the little ball of red, green, and yellow that was perched on a long but thick branch.

John slowly and ever so carefully began to climb up the tree, not wanting to startle Dick in any way or crowd him. He gently sat on a branch directly underneath Dicks and sighed softly. He wasn’t a motivational speaker by any means of the word, but his son needed him, and there wasn’t anything on earth that would prevent him from being there for Dick when he needed it.

“Dickie,” He murmured, and winced a little as he saw Dick’s head shoot up from between his knees, eyes puffy and red with a fresh batch of tear stains painting his cheeks.

John reached out his arms, spreading them wide and gave a little wag of his fingers to indicate that he clearly wasn’t angry, and just wanted to give his son a hug.

Dick didn’t even bother thinking about his next course of action.

He jumped straight into his father’s waiting arms and snuggled close to him. He pressed his face into his father's chest, feeling almost instantly at ease after smelling his father's very specific cologne, that he insisted was the best scent in the whole wide world. Dick’s mother always said his cologne could kill brain cells, mainly his own, to which his father would give a wicked grin and reply that he didn’t need brain cells if he had her.

_His mother._

Dick reluctantly pushed himself off of his father’s chest, “Papa, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have yelled at Mama like that, and I promise I’ll never do it again, not in a million years! Is she mad? I was just s-so angry, it was like there was a bear stuffed into my throat that kept getting bigger and bigger until it just exploded! Does that make sense? I wasn’t angry at Mama though, I-I was just mad and I don’t know what happened. What if it happens again? What if I can never do the quadruple and then I can’t be in the circus, but what if I don't want to be in the cir-.”

Dick swiftly clamped his mouth shut and squeezed his hands over it for good measure.

For one singularly silent moment, no one dared move an inch. Not even the birds soaring through the sky even dared to think about cutting the painfully heavy silence that was brought upon by a singular phrase.

John, who was the one to ultimately break that moment of stillness, untangled Dick’s hands from his mouth and squeezed them tightly in his own.

“Richard, what’s going on?”

“It-It’s a long story.”

John pressed a kiss to his son's hands that were curled up inside of his own, “We have nothing but time, Dickie.”

Dick took a deep breath in and played around with the idea in his head. His parents had always been straightforward with him, and he knew he would get a proper answer out of them, without a shadow of a doubt. It helped that Dick hated the ‘bear’ or the ‘viper’ that resided inside of him with a scorching passion. He never wanted to snap like that again, so he went forth in his plan of action.

“I love being part of the circus, a lot. I don’t want to leave right now, but what if one day I do?”

The question was unnaturally quiet, and hesitant. Two traits that were not ever attributed to Dick Grayson.

However, the response was confident, without a trace of hesitation in its tone.

“Then you leave, and your mama and I will be right behind you.” Dick widened his eyes, a curve of a smile beginning to form.

“It’s that easy?”

“It’s that easy. Dickie, you can do anything you want to do. If you want to go off and be an accountant, then you do it. If you want to move to Australia to live with wildebeests? You take the first flight there! Your mama and I only want one thing for you, do you know what that is?”

Dick gave a small smile, knowing the answer but still shaking his head, wanting to hear it from the horse's mouth.

“We want you to be happy. It’s that simple,” His father hummed, “We might have our differences in the future, and we probably will, but your mother and I will always be behind you. That is a promise that I’ll take with me to the grave, don’t you worry about that.”

John pulled Dick to his chest and pressed a kiss to his son's messy, and absolutely untameable hair.

“I felt like if I couldn’t do the quadruple, then I couldn’t be in the circus, but if I couldn’t be in the circus, I didn’t know what I would do. That’s why I _really_ wanted to get it,” Dick paused for a brief moment and lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper, “I also wanted to get it because I wanted to feel good.”

“You wanted to feel good about yourself? You thought that if you couldn’t get the quadruple, that you couldn’t be a part of the circus and because you didn’t want to think about that, so you got a little frustrated when it wasn’t working out?”

A soft nod was the only response as Dick buried his face deeper into his father's chest, wrapping his small arms around the much larger and far more muscular waist.

“Dick, I’ll tell you something. I couldn’t do the quadruple until I was ten years old, and I couldn’t do it perfectly until I was thirteen. I would practice every single day, and sometimes it felt like it was hopeless because why keep trying if you aren’t getting what you want? That isn’t how life works though, you have to keep trying or else you’ll never know if you could finally get it!”

John chucked slightly as Dick lifted his head up to give his father a skeptical look, only to promptly plop back into his original position.

“It’s true! Your mother had been doing gymnastics ever since she was—What? Two years old? She was finally able to get the quadruple when she was eighteen, and she had been practicing for three years! Don’t look at me like that, I’m serious!”

Dick giggled slightly but felt a little warm fire nestle its way into the depths of his stomach.

“You don't have to get the quadruple, Dick. You are still apart of this circus, and you are most definitely apart of this family, nothing on earth will ever change that. Your mother and I couldn’t care less if you don’t get them. We will always love you and stand by you, no matter what, alright? You are still a Grayson, through and through.”

 _That_ made Dick's heart swell with an encapsulating comfort.

He leaned forward and gave his father a peck on the forehead, mimicking the action he was so very used to with his parents.

John's smile stretched from ear to ear as he pushed Dick’s hair back and suddenly looked absolutely exasperated when his hands got tangled in the mop of black.

“We just got you a haircut two weeks ago! What seven year old has hair that grows this fast unless you’re Harry Potter, which you are most definitely not!”

Dick threw his head back into a hearty laugh, “Says you! Uncle Rick showed me the ‘mullet’ cut you used to have!”

John’s jaw dropped, and Dick could practically see his father's soul leave his body that very second.

“How does Rick have tha—Mary! Alright, Dick? I had that hairstyle for _six months_ when I was sixteen, that’s it! I was going through a, uh, a rebellious phas—Dick! Stop looking at me like that!” John groaned, rubbing his hands over his face and let out a deep sigh. It didn’t really help his case as Dick laughed even harder, and even began to grip his stomach.

“Un-Uncle Rick said that you wanted to be American so bad, so you bought all these Elvis records, and bought a leather jacket, an-and leather _boots_ ,” Dick wheezed, tears slipping out of his eyes as he tried to breathe after his laughing fit.

“You love that leather jacket, you little munchkin,” John hissed, poking Dick’s nose with his eyes squinted in an accusatory fashion but a hint of a teasing smile was beginning to curve at the edge of his lips.

Dick’s eyes gleamed with their usual mischief, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, “Yeah, but I sure do hate you crooning Elvis Presley every night.”

John threw his head back in a gasp, pushing a hand over his heart for the sheer dramatic effect of it, “I have raised a son who hates Elvis Presley! That’s it, we are going to go back home and fix whatever nonsense your Uncle Rick has fed you, but I will have to administer the first antidote.”

Dick gave a little yelp that developed into yet another laugh as his father began to tickle him mercilessly until Dick was absolutely out of breath but still had a winning smile, teeth and all, plastered onto his face.

“I love you, Papa.”

“I love you more then you’ll ever know, Dickie. Now, your mama is going to be worried sick, and I think some apologies are in order. You already know that you shouldn’t _ever_ yell at anyone like that, but I think you need to let your mama know it wasn’t her fault, so let’s get going, alright?”

“Alright.”

That winning smile couldn’t be wiped off Dick’s face the rest of the day, because he really had won, hadn’t he?

________________

_Ziiiiiiip_

_Tap tap_

_Kerplunk_

_Tap_

_Tap_

_Tap_

_Tap_

Dick awoke with start, his eyes slightly bleary as he assessed his surroundings. He hadn’t always been such a light sleeper, but after years of his night job, his senses had been dialed up to eleven at every sense of movement.

He rubbed his eyes slightly, and then suddenly locked eyes with a rigid mesh of red, green, and yellow.

“Dami?”

The young boy in question, who was dripping in rainwater from head to toe, who looked unnaturally unsure of himself and had his hands interlocked tightly behind his back.

“I had not intended to disturb your slumber.” Damian’s face was slightly covered as he ducked his head lower, his hood flopping over his already covered eyes.

“No worries,” Dick murmured, cocking a brow in concern but opening his arms wide, a clear invitation for Damian that didn’t require any words.

Damian, who Dick had just noticed was gripping a knapsack tightly in his hands, took long and hurried strides over to the couch. He plopped down next to Dick and gave him a scathing look for even suggesting a hug at that moment.

Dick gave a huff of amusement, but quickly felt a pang of guilt in his heart as he saw the distressed expression that was painting Damian’s face.

He slid off the couch and knelt in front of Damian, stretching out an arm that paused just in front of the domino mask. Damian gave a jerk of a nod, and Dick quickly ripped the mask off.

He could practically hear his heart snapping into itty bitty pieces.

Tears were welling up in Damian’s eyes, and Dick could tell that he was trying his absolute best to fight them off. His darted in every direction except Dick’s, with his fists clenching tighter and tighter with every beating second.

Dick really hated how much Damian’s hands were shaking when he took them into his own.

“Dami, are you okay?”

Those words were the key to the lock that was always so firmly closed around Damian’s mind.

“Grayson, do I **_have_** to be Robin?”

Dick didn’t think for a moment about his reply, it simply fell out of his mouth like the most natural thing in the entire world. It was purely instinct-based, but Dick could think of no other answer that he would give to his little brother.

“No, of course not!”

A poignant pause filled the room.

“Who will I be then, if I am not Robin?”

It was the pleading look in Damian’s eyes, that was reaching out to Dick’s soul and choking it with its hopelessness. Dick _knew_ what to say, but it was a loaded question.

Each bullet a different response, with a different impact or profound dent on Damian. It was a pressure that felt far too heavy on Dick’s young shoulders, but he needed to reassure him. He needed to make sure Damian knew for a fact that he could be whoever he wanted to be, and that Dick would always be there for him. While Dick considered Bruce a second father to him without a hint of a doubt, he was determined to stray from his path of emotional incompetence during dire situations.

However, Damian had no idea who he wanted to be and clearly wanted Dick to solve that gaping mystery for him.

“I think that before think about who you will be or who you could be, you need to think about what you want. You don’t need to know now, and you can take as much time as you need figuring out who you are, but I can’t tell you who to be, neither can Bruce or anyone. That is someone for you, and you alone, to decipher. I can give you advice, and I will always be there when you need me, but I cannot tell you who to be. I’ll give you an example, okay?”

Damian gave another quick nod, but his shoulders had lost their previous hunched figure, and he seemed to be far more at ease. This heavily encouraged Dick to keep going.

“I hated college. I hated it with every fiber of my body, but I went because I thought It would make B happy, especially after I had been fired from being Robin. You know what I realized, though? I didn’t know who I was without Robin, because it had become such a big part of my life, and I could see myself going down a similar rut if I continued with college, so I dropped out. Bruce wasn’t happy in the slightest, but I realized that I didn’t care. I had done something that I wanted, and I would continue to do so because I wanted to figure out who I was. Robin was—It was a phase.”

“A phase? The legacy that you and my father had built, was a phase?”

Dick gave a little chuckle at Damian’s utter disbelief in his words and held himself back from rolling his eyes teasingly as a familiar glare fell upon him.

“It was a legacy and a symbol for some, and it still is for me, but it was also a phase in my life. It can be both because I can tell you I am not the same person I was before Robin, you can agree that you aren’t either, right?”

Another quick nod, but the glare was dimming and becoming a far more pondering look.

“I can also say that I am a different person now, then I was when I was Robin. I grew into that new person, and while I needed Robin to help me get to where I am, I don’t need to cling onto it for the rest of my life, even if it’s still important to me. It was like a springboard, is that a good example?”

“It is adequate.”

Dick couldn’t imagine a better answer out of Damian.

“Great, so it was like a springboard. It shot me up into the sky, and then Nightwing became like the bars that I’m now taking hold of. You don’t have to be Robin, alright? That’s the point that I’m trying to get at and I will always be behind you, Damian. Whatever you want to do, you do it. Even if you don’t know what you want out of life yet or who you want to be, it still applies. You’ll never have to worry about being alone in your choice because I’ll always be here.”

Dick, once again, let go of Damian’s hands and spread his arms out. He didn’t mind the slight wait, because he hoped that Damian would clue in that Dick was willing to wait for him, and stay by his side. Patience was something Dick was unaccustomed to, and while he had to learn a bit of it while dealing with Bruce as well as his other siblings, he had constantly pushed himself to be far more patient when it came to ~~_(raising)_~~ Damian.

However, despite that fact, Dick was completely and utterly caught off guard when Damian jumped from his seat in the coach, his hood flying off of his head, and wrapped his arms tightly around Dick’s neck. He curled his head into Dick’s shoulder blade and clung to him tightly. Dick didn’t bother hesitating to wrap his arms tightly around Damian, running a comforting hand through his hair and whispering an incoherent string of soothing words.

Damian had accepted his hugs before, with grumbling and insults always following suit, but it had always been a struggle for Damian to get associated with the fact that he could simply wrap his arms around someone for pure comfort, without the combat or violence being incorporated. He could remember when he had first hugged Damian, he received a quick yet easily lethal jab to the gut and a katana inches away from slicing his nose in half.

It would be an understatement to say that Dick immensely proud of Damian.

_(When wasn’t he proud of Damian was the real question.)_

Neither of them had realized that they had been sitting on the floor for a solid few minutes, but neither of them truly cared. Damian, who hadn’t released his grip on Dick’s neck for all those minutes, slowly began to move away.

“Grayson, I-I want to—I am very—.”

Dick gave a soft smile and ruffled Damian’s hair, which awarded him a standard _‘tt’_ , “I know what you’re trying to say, it’s oka—.”

“No, it is not alright. I-I am extremely thankful, for everything you have done for me. You have never given up on me, even when others implored you to do so,” Damian trailed off a bit, as he reeled back from his outburst of emotion.

Dick couldn’t help but pull Damian into another hug, with a wide grin stretching from ear to ear, “You don't need to thank me for that, kiddo. I would do it again in a heartbeat, no questions asked.”

Dick swore he could see a ghost of a smile on Damian’s face when he peered down to meet his eyes, pushing his little brother's damp hair back and off of his eyebrows.

“Damian, I am so proud of you, I hope you know that.”

The boy himself was a little taken back by the statement, and Dick couldn’t help but sigh internally. He had always been keen on making Damian aware that he cared for him and that he was immensely proud of his little brother, but clearly, Bruce was still stuck on his emotionally constipated habits and that was beginning to sink into Damian.

He really needed to make more visits to the Manor.

Dick then suggested that Damian go get changed out of his soaked uniform, and was a little surprised to find that Damian had already packed a change of clothing inside of the knapsack he had been carrying. He also noticed a little black edge peeking out the corner of the bag, and he had to push back his own inherent curiosity to not discover what this mysterious item was, even though he had a solid hunch on what it was.

As Damian went to go get changed in the washroom, Dick took it upon himself to order a few pizzas and had half a mind to call Bruce to make sure he knew that Damian was with him.

He hesitated though.

Damian clearly wanted to stay here, as he had several days clothes packed inside of the bag and had ventured all the way from Gotham to Bludhaven. Dick had already deduced that Damian most have had a falling out with his father that might have triggered the question and the arrival. He didn’t want to scare his brother off because Bruce would _most definitely_ show up the next morning, but he knew how much Bruce cared even if he was awful at showing it. He knew this better than anyone else, as he had spent years upon years simply learning to understand Bruce’s oddities and habits. However, that didn’t stop him from being irritated with B, and the situation now was no exception.

Dick decided to send a quick message to Alfred instead, explaining that Damian was safe and that it would be _preferable_ if Bruce wasn’t standing in front of his door the next morning demanding answers.

Damian, who had promptly sat onto the couch after changing, his knees pressed against his chest, almost trying to hide something.

“Are you wearing my Beatles sweater?”

“ _Tt_.”

“You are so wearing my Beatles sweater.”

“I don’t understand why you have reached that assumption.”

“I don’t understand why you won’t admit your wearing my sweater, Dam-.”

“I am not wearing your sweater, Grayson!”

Dick couldn't help but double over in laughter because the sheer look of seething rage on Damian’s face was priceless, as his little brother pulled the hoodie over his head and scowled at him with a piercing glare.

~~_(It felt nostalgically familiar like nothing had changed in their dynamic in all this time spent apart.)_ ~~

After his laughing fit, Dick plopped down next to Damian, with a knowing grin.

“It is comfortable.”

Dick almost didn’t catch what Damian had muttered softly, as the younger of the two rummaged around in his knapsack and pulled out what Dick had correctly assumed was a sketchbook.

~~_(The sweater was getting way too small anyway, seeing as he had left it back in the Manor.)_ ~~

“Can we look through it?”

Dick knew that drawing was a deeply personal as well as private enjoyment that Damian had, that he found extremely difficult to express or show anyone else. It made Dick’s heart swell when Damian gave a subtle nod and nestled closed to him.

“Architect has piqued my interest as of late.”

Damian peered up at Dick, holding his breath for a single moment, waiting for any sort of negative reaction. However, Dick was absolutely beaming as he wrapped an arm around Damian’s shoulders.

“Really? Tell me more about it,” Dick exclaimed, and he could feel all the remnants of nerves or doubt wash away from Damian’s form. He leaned into Dick's chest and opened his sketchbook wide.

It may come to a shock to some but Damian could be just as chatty as Dick when speaking about something he felt passionate about and speaking to someone he felt would actually listen. Dick loved those moments because it made Damian seem all the more like a child and less like a proud, standoffish little adult. It had taken time and effort to get past Damian’s heavily guarded walls, but Dick wouldn’t dare change a single thing. He wouldn’t dare because moments like these, where Damian was curled up against Dick, with a soft smile playing at his lips as he delved deeper into the concepts or architecture and his designs, simply filled Dick’s heart with everlasting joy.

He hadn’t even noticed the winning grin plastered on his face, as he went on ruffling Damian’s hair and listening intently, without a care in the world.

Dick really had won, hadn’t he?

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, thank you all so much for taking the time to read this fic! I am forever appreciative!! 
> 
> So I decided to make a series hehe, with this fic and my other, Coffin Born. The general idea I am going for is Dick learning things or really just experiencing things from his past, and applying them to his present/future both consciously and subconsciously(I have no idea if that makes sense, hopefully it does lmao). I have a few fics planned out for Bruce, Jason and a few more Damian ones with varying concepts :) I am still trying to think of one for Tim as I really want to include most of the Batfam, so if anyone has any suggestions let me know in the comments! 
> 
> I also wanted to mention that my characterization of Damian is based on the fact that at this point, he trusts Dick completely and doesn't feel the need to have to put up a front/facade when with him, hence why he's a lot more talkative etc. I will be exploring Damian earlier in his time as Robin, so his grumpy little proud self will make a return so not to worry lmao. ( I am scared of writing any post-Spyral fics in fear that I will cry lol) 
> 
> (Also I imagined John Grayson to look like Uncle Jesse and or John Stamos, hence why I made some of Elvis references bc I was watching a hella lot of Full House lmaoooo) 
> 
> Anyways, I am so happy you guys took the time to read this, and your comments absolutely make my day so thank you so so so much!!


End file.
